When the Shadows Rage
by SkribbleGurl
Summary: <html><head></head>Something is snatching people outside of Marquette, Michigan. When Sam and Dean investigate, their world changes in a way they never thought it would. Turns out aliens and time travel are real. Turns out they need the help of a consulting detective and an ex-army doctor. SuperWhoLock. No non-canon pairings, no slash, no Destiel or Johnlock. T for implied swearing and violence</html>
1. Episode 1: Tin Men part 1

**_~*~Hi all! Just a quick note to introduce this latest story! This is my first fanfic...so of course I had to pull out all the stops and make it a SuperWhoLock. ;) I've had a great time writing this and I hope you guys enjoy it as well! _**

**_Each episode has 3-5 parts of 1,000-1,500 words each. I'm planning to post each part once a week, on Mondays, for as long as the fanfic goes on (which, at this point, is unknown.) :) Also, for those interested, this fanfic takes place: somewhere between Supernatural S2 episodes "Bloodlust" and "Croatoan"; at the end of Sherlock S3; and between S6 and S7 of Doctor Who. I know in real life the timelines don't match up...and I will probably get a few minor details wrong here or there...but let's just play along and say it's slightly AU. ;) (Also, for those wondering...no slash, no Johnlock, and no Destiel.) _**

**_Questions and critiques are welcome! Enjoy!_**

**_DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters, even though I wish I did.~*~_**

EPISODE 1: TIN MEN PART 1

"I wish you'd given me more time to research." Sam flipped through his dad's notebook, re-reading the section on wendigos over and over.

"Relax." Dean hung his right arm over the seat, driving with two fingers of his left hand hooked over the bottom of the Impala steering wheel.

Sam glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes, then shook his head. It wasn't worth critiquing his older brother's driving skills yet again. He rubbed his eyes and leaned back in the seat. "Relax? We don't know anything about this thing. All you did was talk to a few locals, then you were all gung-ho about getting out here to hunt."

"Claw marks on trees? People disappearing mysteriously, campsites trashed? It's a wendigo, dude. Just like out in Colorado." Dean turned onto a gravel road and stopped, squinting up at the streetsign that was partially hidden by a scrubby pine. "This is it, right?"

"Yeah. But—"

Dean stomped the gas, throwing gravel as they headed down the road. He grinned.

Sam sighed. He shifted sideways in the seat to face his brother. "Dean, listen to me. In Colorado, we studied the records. We knew when the thing hibernated and when it came out to eat and approximately how many people it took each time. We don't know anything about this wendigo. What if it's not even a wendigo? Maybe it's a lake monster of some kind, or something entirely different. Werewolf? Vampire? Or maybe it's not anything supernatural at all, and it's just a bear."

Dean gave him a 'you're being stupid' look. "Eating people? You are listening to yourself, right?"

A yellow-and-white striped gate came into view, blocking the rest of the road. Dean turned down a slight incline into the graveled parking lot and stopped. He got out.

"I just don't like going in blind," Sam muttered under his breath, shoving the door open.

Dean tossed him a flare gun, then a shotgun, then a handful of rock salt shells. Sam pocketed the shells and raised his eyebrows.

Dean shrugged. "Just in case. But I don't think we're going to find anything other than a wendigo. We're in the things' backyard, dude. This is where the myth originated." He belted a machete around his waist and stuck a flare gun in his jacket pocket. "Heck, they even have an island out there with a camping spot _named_ Wendigo. You ask me, that's just asking for trouble."

"You're running your mouth. That means you don't know what's out there either, and you're nervous about it, whether you admit it or not." Sam slung the shotgun over his shoulder.

Dean punched his shoulder and headed into the woods toward Lake Superior.

The crunch of pine needles was loud under their boots as they walked. Underneath the pine woods, it was significantly darker than it had been on the road. It wouldn't be long before it would be too dark to see in the forest. Sam frowned. _Hope the island is pretty clear._ As if hunting at night wasn't bad enough, hunting with no natural moon or starlight to help them was next to suicide.

They hit the beach. Sam paused and look up and down the wide stretch of sand. It was a beautiful day, just cool enough for the multiple layers he wore, with a little breeze coming in off the clear blue lake, but the beach was deserted.

"Guess word got out," he said.

"Hey, look there." Dean pointed down the beach.

About thirty yards away, the sand changed to slabs of sandstone, grooves and shelves worn in the rock from the years of winter storms. Across a small channel sat the island, a chunk of rock rising from the lake, dotted with caves in the sides and topped with pine trees and thick brush.

"Dude, the thing looks like your head after you wake up," Dean said.

Sam punched his brother's shoulder. "Don't hate on the hair."

"One of these days, it's goin' bye-bye while you're napping."

"Dude, I _will_ punt you into next week if you don't stop."

They made their way to the rock and stood at the edge of the water. Sam pursed his lips. The channel, maybe fifty yards across, looked deceptively calm. Tiny waves sloshed gently back and forth on the lake's surface. But he, unlike his idiot brother, actually like to know stuff about the places they visited, and he knew from reading that the channel would have a decent undercurrent. More to the point, though, would be getting Dean across it without—

"Agh, we should've bought a canoe or something," Dean said. He crouched and tested the water with his hand. "That stuff's cold!"

"You think I'd trust my life to you in a canoe?" Sam scoffed. "Besides, you knew this was coming. We'll just wade across." He sat down and started unlacing his hiking boots.

Dean stared at him in disbelief. "I was picturing a few yards, not a freakin' football field! I'm not wading through that."

Sam finished rolling up his jeans to his knees, and stood, slinging the knotted laces of his boots over his shoulder. "Guess I'll go alone, then, while you run back to town and buy yourself a kayak or something. Pansy." He stepped into the water.

Crap, that _was_ cold. He looked away to keep his surprise from showing on his face.

"Oh, all right, all right!" Dean pulled off his own boots, rolled his pants, and gathered his equipment from his pockets, holding it above his head as he eased into the water. He made a disgusted face.

As they waded away from shore, the slippery rock under their feet sloped downward. Sam dug in his toes to keep from slipping and falling on his butt. He kept his eyes on the island, scanning the red rocky shore. The people in town had said this was a popular backwoods camping spot, even in the fall, but he couldn't see any signs of life.

Dean stopped.

"Oh, what now?" Sam asked.

He nodded at their feet. They stood on a ledge of sand probably ten yards from the sandstone beach of the island. A couple of feet below the ledge, the lake floor was covered in tiny, colorful pebbles. Sam saw a few minnows dart past.

"How deep does this get?" Dean looked down and saw that one of his pant legs had unrolled a little, soaking the hem. "Aw, crap."

"It's not supposed to be deeper than our knees, not at this time of the year." Sam started to step down.

The step was a _lot_ deeper than he had thought. He stumbled forward, sloshing water over his waist. Sam swore and raised his arms, trying to keep his jacket as dry as possible, but it was too late. He was soaked up to his ribs, thanks to his flailing.

Dean laughed. "Yeah, Good one, Sammy."

"Shut up, jerk." Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out the soaked flare gun. "Now this is ruined."

Dean wiggled the flare gun he held above his head, smirking. "Good thing I got mine." He hopped down into the low spot, cringing and muttering under his breath.

They hurried across to the other shore and sat down to pull on their socks and shoes.

"Just wade across, he says," Dean muttered under his breath. "It's not that deep. We'll be fine. Shoulda bought that canoe. You'd better hope I don't get a rash from walking around in wet pants all night."

Sam rolled his eyes and headed up the slope to the top of the island.


	2. Episode 1: Tin Men part 2

Little footpaths snaked throughout the underbrush in what felt like totally random patterns. Sam chose the left-hand path and tromped into the woods, his brother close behind.

The path wound through a clump of pine trees, then broke out into the open, going right along a cliff edge. Sam stepped to the edge and glanced down. A smooth, sheer granite face went straight down to the water, already close to fifty feet below them. The island curved out in front of them, and in the rock face, he could see a couple of caves close to the water.

"Think it could live in one of those?" Dean asked.

"It would depend on how deep they go. The entrances of those caves would be flooded during gale season here in a couple of months, and frozen over in the winter."

"But if it hibernates that whole time, it wouldn't matter, right?"

"Probably not."

They kept moving, searching for more signs of the monster.

Eventually the path curved away from the cliff edge and headed inland again. As they walked, Sam realized that, beyond their footsteps, the island was quiet. Unusually, unnaturally quiet. He couldn't hear any animal or insect life. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. There was definitely something weird about this island.

"Hey, Sam." Dean pointed up at a set of gouges on a tree trunk.

Sam stepped closer. The gouges were at his eye level. "No blood. Maybe it's just a big bear."

"It'd have to be a freak of nature like you."

Sam swiped at him. Dean ducked and bobbed back up with a huge grin on his face.

"There's definitely something weird going on. The island is dead. I haven't heard any sounds besides us the entire hike."

Dean frowned. "That ain't right."

"I know. It's creepy."

A loud snap sounded out.

Sam pulled the shotgun into his shoulder and turned, sweeping the barrel along the edge of the woods. He felt Dean bump into him as he did the same. For a moment, they stood back to back, quiet and watchful.

Sam's heart hammered, and he swung the shotgun up into the trees, praying he wouldn't see the wendigo's skeletal face grinning down at him.

Dean swore. "Come out, come out, little monster! We're waiting to play."

No more twigs snapped, and no branches rustled from wind made by a speeding wendigo. Sam started to relax a little. "I think—"

Something wound around his ankle and yanked. Sam yelped, and his finger tightened on the trigger as he lost his balance. The shotgun thundered. Rock salt pelted his arm and side as he landed on his back. He hissed in a breath, flopped onto his stomach, trying to kick free of whatever it was that had his ankle.

It dragged him over the uneven ground. Sam winced as a rock dug into his side. He could hear Dean yelling at him, but couldn't make out the words, not with his ears ringing from the shotgun going off next to his face.

Sam flung his arm out, latched hold of a small pine tree.

Needles and bark dug into his palm, but he jerked to a halt, his arm feeling like it would wrench from his socket. The thing jerked at his ankle, tearing his hand free.

Dean jumped over him, drawing his machete. The blade flashed, and Sam heard a sharp _clang_.

He tucked his head to his chest, trying to see what Dean was striking at.

A black tentacle—no, a _cable_—lay in a stiff line on the ground, one end wrapped around Sam's leg, the other disappearing into the jumble of boulders about twenty feet away.

Dean struck at the cable again. A spark jumped from the cable to the machete blade, and Dean dropped it, swearing.

The cable slackened around Sam's ankle.

Sam huffed out a breath and sat up, staring at it. It was as thick as his thumb, coated in black rubber. He could see the interior where Dean had hacked at it, several metal wires twisted together, a couple of them cut through by the machete.

"You okay?" Dean asked, voice harsh.

Sam nodded and kicked the cable away from him. He pulled up his pant leg. The jeans were ripped about an inch above the hem, and a swollen purple bruise wrapped around his leg. He accepted Dean's hand up and tested his weight on the foot. "Hurts like heck, but I can walk."

"Good. I'm gonna go see what that thing is." Dean headed for the boulders and followed the cable around them.

Sam picked up his shotgun, wincing at the sting in his arm.

He pushed his shredded hoodie sleeve back. A few of the larger pieces had gotten through his clothes, peppering his arm with dots of blood. He pulled the sleeve back into place, pushed away the memories that went along with the sight of rock salt stuck in his skin.

"Sam!" Dean bellowed.

Sam looked up. His brother was out of sight.

"_Sammy_!"

Sam ran for the boulders, ratcheting another round into the shotgun barrel. When he rounded them, he could see Dean pinned to the side of the largest rock, cables wrapped around his torso and neck. He was kicking, trying to reach something on the ground that was just out of range.

"Kill it!" he yelled at Sam.

Sam raised the shotgun and fired. Rock salt pinged off the thing, and lights flickered. Sam stared at it in shock. It was a metal skull, the eyes plated with some kind of glass, cables snaking from the severed neck.

"What the—" he muttered.

Dean's swearing choked off. Sam didn't even look. He dropped the useless gun, grabbed a fist-sized rock, and smashed it into the skull. The eyes flickered. Sam glanced at his brother. Dean's eyes were wide, his knuckles white as he clawed at the cable choking him.

Sam slammed the rock into the skull again.

Cold metal fingers closed around his neck, pulling him into the air. Sam squirmed around and found himself facing a giant metal man, taller than he was and missing its head.

"Let go of him!" Sam yelled at it.

The cables slackened, and Dean dropped to his hands and knees, coughing. Two more metal monsters walked around the rocks, their joints creaking, their footfalls heavy even on ground padded by dead pine needles and moss.

Dean staggered to his feet, grabbing his machete from where it had fallen to the ground. "I'm gonna kill you, you sons of—"

One of the monsters twisted the machete from his grip. Dean's threat changed to a snarl as both monsters grabbed his arms, pulling him around the boulders.

The cables from the metal skull snaked into the giant monster's torso, pulling the head back up. It settled into place, the neck fitting seamlessly with the shoulders, a few wires exposed in imitation of a human throat. The eyes flickered, and it looked straight at Sam. "You will be upgraded."

"Upgraded? What's that mean?"

The monster lowered him to the ground, still keeping its hand around his neck, and pushed him forward. "Walk."

Sam obeyed, his stomach sinking. He couldn't hear Dean swearing any more. As he stepped around the boulders, Sam slowly moved his hand toward his jacket pocket. The flare gun had been soaked, but maybe it would work enough for him to get free, to rescue Dean.

The monster seized his wrist in a crushing grip. Sam growled, half from pain, half from frustration. It suddenly swung him around and shoved him right at one of the rock faces.


	3. Episode 1: Tin Men part 3

Sam cringed, expecting to smash into the boulder, but instead, a mist washed over him, cold on his hands and face. He opened his eyes. They were in a small rectangle space, dimly light by greenish light. The silver walls had vertical grooves cut into them and were hung with black cables. Two doors—one in front of them, one of the left—were the only interruptions in the pattern. More cables lay on the floor in tangles.

The monster pushed him through the door on the left, into another room lit by the same greenish light. Something human-shaped stood on a pedestal in the center of the room. As they went closer, Sam realized it _was_ a human, a man, strapped onto some sort of device, the arms and legs held in place by large metal clamps. Cables ran to a mask covering the guy's face. Every now and then, one of his limbs twitched. Three blue lights shone on the forehead of the mask. A fourth blinked, and a fifth was dark.

The hair on the back of Sam's neck rose. What was that thing? The metal monster pushed him past the device, and Sam craned his neck, trying to get a better look at it.

"Sammy, you okay?"

Sam looked up. The back wall had three doors set into it. Dean stood near one of the doors, one of the metal monsters holding his arms while the other opened the door.

Sam turned to the monster holding his neck. "Hey, listen, I don't know what you want with us—"

"The humans will be upgraded."

"Yeah, what's that mean, tin man?" Dean growled.

He stumbled as the monsters shoved him into the room.

Sam tried to jerk free. "Look, I think this is just a mistake, a misunder—"

The monster shoved him, hard, and Sam staggered into the room, tripping over his brother's foot.

"Humans will be upgraded. Those who resist will be deleted."

"Hey!" Dean started toward the door.

It slammed shut in his face.

Dean's hands clenched and unclenched as he stared at the door.

Sam pushed himself up. "Don't—"

Dean kicked the door, his boot making a dull thud echo through the room. "Hey Tin Man! You need a brain?" _Thud._ "Let me out, and I'll help you find one!" _Thud_.

Sam grabbed his brother's arm, pulled him away from the door. "Did you see that thing out there?"

Dean frowned. "That weird device with cables hooked up to it?"

"Dude, that wasn't a device. That was a _human_."

Dean's eyes widened a little, and he stepped away from the door. He rubbed his chin. "Well, isn't that great. So we're prisoners of some guy controlling some kind of…what, robots?"

Sam rubbed his hands through his hair and clasped them at the back of his neck. "No."

"No? Says who?"

"Says me."

"Like you'd know."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You still play '80s music on a freakin' _tape_ player, for cryin' out loud. You don't know anything about technology."

Dean snorted. "And you do?"

"More than you."

Dean stuffed his hands in his pocket and sat down, leaning against the wall. "Okay, so they're not robots. Got any other ideas?"

"I don't think that guy in that device was controlling them."

"I meant ideas on how to get out of here, moron."

Sam sat down next to his brother. "No."

Dean pursed his lips. "Okay, inventory time. They took my machete away from me, but I've still got this." He pulled his flare gun from his pocket.

"Me too."

"Besides that…" Dean dug into his pockets. "Cookie crumbs. I think."

"Penknife and phone." Sam put them on the floor in front of him and stared, rubbing his hand through his hair. Now that his pulse had stopped hammering, he could feel something digging at the back of his mind. He closed his eyes, trying to remember.

He heard Dean pick up his phone. "No reception. Of course not, because why would we ever find an easy solution to a problem?"

"Ssh."

Dean got up and started pacing. "Think we could short out the door?"

"Shut up for a second." _Dad's journal. There was something in Dad's journal…_ Sam opened his eyes. "Dean, Dad had a journal entry on these guys."

"What? Why would dad have Tin Man in his journal?" He groaned. "Don't tell me _The_ _Wizard of Oz_ was inspired by these guys."

"It was stuffed in a pocket in the back. I didn't ever read it all the way through—just came across it while I was looking for something else. But I remember there was a sketch that looked exactly like these guys."

"Well, _none _of that helps us right now." Dean grabbed the pocket knife and crouched near the floor, pulling out the screwdriver attachment of the knife. He pushed it into a crack in one of the wall grooves and pried open a panel.

Sam looked over Dean's shoulder. The wall was full of multi-colored wires and LED dot lights, some blinking, some dim.

Dean rubbed his hands together. "Okay, this is gonna be a bit more complicated than hotwiring a car."

"You're gonna get yourself electrocuted again."

"Hey, I'm not exactly happy about the idea either, but it's better than half-remembering something that might or might not help us in Dad's journal." Dean stood, pulling off the panel above the one he'd already opened, and pointed at a box with wires sprouting from every side. "This is the back of the numeric pad they used to open the door. If I can short it out, maybe we can get the door open again."

Sam shrugged. "Okay, knock yourself out."

Sam looked at his watch "Two hours? You've seriously been at this for two hours?"

Dean poked his tongue into his cheek and touched two more wires together. For the second time in five minutes, a spark jumped between the wires, and Dean dropped them, cursing. He stood up, pressing both hands to the wall, then kicked the panels away from him.

Sam crouched in front of the tangle of wires his brother had pulled out. There was no organization in either Dean's method or-that he could see-the way the wires had been installed.

He sighed. "Bet we're just gonna have to wait until they decide to talk to us again."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Um, no."

"We don't have any other choice, Dean. Maybe we can at least find out what they want with us."

"You were standing right here when they said it, Sammy. Upgrading. Whatever that it, I bet it has to do with the guy out there in the device." Dean ran his hand through his hair, staring at the door. "This doesn't make any sense."

Sam snorted. "I'd think you'd be used to it by now."

"No, vampires, wendigos, demons-those make sense. This? This makes no sense. This makes less sense than most people." Dean's eyes widened. He pinched the web of skin between thumb and forefinger on his left hand, wincing as his fingernails left marks.

Sam shook his head gave a half-laugh. "You think this is a dream?"

"Maybe. Maybe it's one of your freako visions or something like that."

No, it didn't feel like one of his visions. Not that he expected Dean to really understand, try as his brother might. He rubbed his mouth and turned back to the exposed wiring.

"Ah, Sam, sorry, I didn't-"

Sam held up his hand to stop his brother. "Isn't it one of your house rules to not have any chick flick moments or something?"

Dean snorted. Sam leaned down and started fiddling with some of the wires. If Dean, who had always been good with mechanical stuff, hadn't been able to short out the door, he doubted he could. But he couldn't just sit and do nothing anymore.

From outside the room, they could hear the heavy tramp of the tin men's metal boots. Sam stood up and backed away from the door.

Dean grabbed their gear from the floor and shoved a flare gun into his hand. "If anything looks like it could cause a distraction..."

"Shoot it," Sam finished.

Dean nodded.

The door slid back, revealing two tin men standing in front of them. As they stepped into the room, crowding the brothers back against the wall, Sam saw out into the main room. His stomach lurched.

The man he'd seen earlier was now standing, the metal mask still on his face. All five lights on the forehead were glowing brightly, and he was walking down the steps, away from the device.

The vision hit Sam hard, his head feeling like it was going to explode. He saw Dean strapped down on the device, heard him screaming as the tin men pressed a mask to his face. Saw himself being forced away from his brother, into another part of the hideout.

"Hey, Sam! Head in the game!" Dean yelled.

Sam forced back the ache and looked up, saw the monsters reaching for him. _Not happening_. He dove forward. The tin man's fingers just brushed his hoodie. Sam stumbled out into the main room, aiming his flare gun at the ropes of cables attached to the device, and pulled the trigger.

The flare shot across the room and tangled in the cables, hot orange sparks sizzling over the floor. The rubber coating over the wires immediately started warping.

Metal hands grabbed Sam's arms. He twisted, tried to pull free, and saw Dean shove his flare gun into the exposed wiring under the tin man's chin.

"Buh-bye, sucker," Dean spat, and pulled the trigger.

The flare spit sparks into Sam's face, and he jerked back, bringing his hands up. The tin man dropped on the floor, spasming.

The other tin men, including the one that had been a human not all that long ago, looked from the brothers to the melting cables of the device.

Dean grabbed Sam's hoodie and pushed him toward the door. "Run, Sammy!"


	4. Episode 2: The Blue Box part 1

_**~*~A huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed/favorited so far! Thank you for your kind words, they mean a lot to me! :) If you know of someone who would enjoy this story, please don't hesitate to share it with them-the more the merrier! :D And without further ado...enjoy Episode 2!~*~**_

Sam and Dean stumbled from the hideout, followed by angry, mechanical roars and a shower of sparks. They paused only to grab their abandoned weapons before running full-tilt back to the channel.

At the water's edge, they stopped. Sam leaned his hands on his knees, gasping, while Dean stared behind them, the look on his face practically daring anything to follow them.

"Okay," Dean said quietly. "What was _that_?"

"What was what?"

"You had a vision in there, didn't you?"

Sam blew out a long, soft breath. "Yeah."

"What'd you see?"

Sam swallowed, hard. "You. They were strapping you down on that device. I-Dean, I think they were turning you into one of them. I think that's what happened to the guy we saw, to the people who went missing-they got turned into those things."

Dean swore and walking away, his hands on his hips. "That's just friggin' great."

"We gotta get back to the Impala. I've gotta look at Dad's journal."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay, let's go." Dean kicked off his socks and stomped into the lake, not bothering to roll up his pants.

Not even trying to be quiet, Sam splashed after him. They jogged down the graveled road until they came to the gate and the parking lot. Dean unlocked it and went around to the trunk as Sam pulled out his backpack and found their dad's journal. The leather was soft, time-worn under his hands as he flopped it open on the roof of the car and started paging through it.

Just as he'd told Dean, the pages were in the back pocket of the journal, folded and stuffed away like their dad had hoped they'd go unnoticed. Sam pulled them out and unfolded them.

The top page held a sketch of a metal monster exactly like they'd seen-body encased in metal, eyes glowing blue.

Dean came around to the front of the car, changed into dry clothes and carrying a beer can. He hoisted himself onto the hood and leaned back against the windshield. He laid a gun across his knees, cracked open the can, and took a long swig.

"During work hours?" Sam said.

"Gotta steady my nerves somehow. That was weird, dude. Like, I know our life full of weird stuff, but that was _weird_. Dad's journal say anything?"

"Yeah." Sam leaned against the car and read the notes aloud. "Cybermen. Rare. Highly intelligent, were once humans that 'upgraded' themselves into cyborgs with no emotions. Only frightened of a man they call 'the Doctor'. STAY AWAY."

The last words had thick, bold strokes making up the letters and were underlined several times.

Dean snorted and took another drink. "Terrific."

Before Sam realized what he was doing, he'd slid his hand into his pocket, fingers closing around the smooth case of his phone, before he remembered…Dad was gone. A thick lump formed in his throat. He blinked, looking away from Dean.

As much as he and his dad had fought, as much as his dad had been absent from his life, it still threw him to admit that John Winchester was actually dead. Throughout his entire life, Dean had always talked about their dad like he was some kind of superhero, and his brother's viewpoint had always colored Sam's opinion of their dad, no matter how mad he'd been.

It hadn't thrown his world into a tailspin, though. Not like with Dean. Sam glanced up and caught his brother's hazel eyes staring, before Dean quickly looked away, jaw clenched. Sam pulled his hand from his pocket and cleared his throat.

"Well." Dean slid from the hood of the car and threw back the last of his beer. He opened the door to the Impala. "Let's hit the road."

"Why?" Sam asked.

"Look, man, if Dad said to stay away, we stay away." Dean shoved the key into the ignition and cranked.

"Dean…" Sam bent down to yell over the roar of the engine. "These things are taking people—converting them to something…not human! We can't just take off!"

Dean shook his head. "Have you ever—_ever_, Sam—heard Dad tell us to run?"

Sam shrugged.

"I know, but we've never just left people in trouble."

"It doesn't sit well with me either. But we can't fight what we don't know."

"Yeah, well, more often, it's looking like we don't know anything. Dad played his cards way too close to his chest. Maybe there's something we can find if I can get on the internet."

Dean's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "I swear if you turn this into another emo conversation about Dad's death, I will leave your butt here and you can hitch to the Roadhouse."

Sam smacked his hands on the window sill and straightened. He walked away, rubbing his hands through his hair. Sometimes, he really, _really_ wanted to punch Dean. _No. I'm not like that. I don't just fly off the handle like he does. Like Dad did._

"Dude," Dean called after him. "C'mon, Sam. Just get in the car."

Sam turned and walked back. "Here's a deal."

Dean groaned and dropped his head onto the steering wheel.

"No, listen. Give me tonight to look up all of this. I'll look up the Doctor, see what I can find. Maybe there's a way we can contact him. Maybe he can take care of this."

Dean pointed a finger at him. "Tonight. That's all you get. Tomorrow, we're packing up getting as far away from this crap as we can."

Sam got in, leaned back against the seat and nodded. "That's all I need."

The hotel room was dark beyond the small circle of Sam's bedside lamp. Dean sprawled in the other bed, snoring, one arm flung across his eyes to block out the light. Sam stared at his brother as he tapped a pencil against his laptop keyboard.

Dean had never run from anything, even when they were kids. They were both stubborn, sure, but Dean was the one who always dug in his heels. Tough hunts made him excited, eager for the challenge.

So it bothered Sam that, based on a few sentences in Dad's journal, Dean was ready to turn tail. _Maybe I'm just putting my spin on it, based on my fights with Dad. _Dean was a good soldier, and he never fought Dad. _Maybe I shouldn't, either_.

Sam shook his head and turned back to his laptop screen. He'd been surfing paranormal websites for hours, trying to find anything on Cybermen, or their enemy Dad had called 'the Doctor'. But that wasn't much to go on, and the usual sites hadn't had a thing on any of them. Neither had Google searches on 'cyber men', 'tin men', and 'the doctor'.

Sam glanced at the time on the bottom of the screen. 3:34 AM. He had about two and a half hours before Dean would be up, ready to hit the road.

He typed 'cybermen, "the doctor", upgraded' into the search box, and hit enter.

Links popped up, most of leading to articles about doctors and research into artificial limbs, implants, that sort of thing. Just like most of his other searches.

Sam scrolled to the bottom of the page and clicked the next button. Scan, scroll, click. Scan, scroll, click. His patience was wearing thin. He gnawed on his lower lip. _I should just give up. If I go to sleep now, I can be sure I'll get a couple of hours of sleep before leaving._ He could never count on sleeping in the Impala. Dean got way too bored way too easily.

_One more page_. Sam clicked next, scanned down...

Nothing.

Sam slammed the laptop shut and pushed it onto the bed beside him. As he turned out the light, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something.


	5. Episode 2: The Blue Box part 2

**_~*~Happy November and, to those of you doing it, good luck with NaNoWriMo! Not joining you this year-too much on my plate-but I'll be cheering you on for sure. :) Please enjoy this next installment, and let me know what you guys think-your comments make my day!~*~_**

"Rise and shine, pretty boy!"

A pillow whacked Sam further into reality. He sat straight up, shoving it away from his face and blinked up at his brother.

Dean stood at the foot of the bed, already dressed and carrying two to-go cups of coffee.

"How late were you up?" he asked as Sam got up, started getting dressed.

"Uh, three-thirty." Sam rubbed at his eyes.

"And I'm assuming you didn't find anything."

Sam snatched the coffee cup Dean held out for him and took a gulp. It was hot, black, and burned down his throat, but the pain and taste snapped him wide awake. "How do you know?"

"Because if you had, you would have woken me up, squealing like a preteen girl who discovered her favorite boy band was coming to town." Dean smirked.

"Okay, no, I didn't find anything." Sam got up, started to shove his laptop into his backpack.

Dean shook his head. "We're not going anywhere."

Sam eyed his brother. Dean sat on the foot of the bed, staring at the carpet as he sipped his coffee. "What happened?"

"A couple of teenagers went missing last night. Overheard it when I was out getting gas and coffee. Their families are saying they were out at Wetmore Landing. The cops are thinking they drowned, but..."

Sam swallowed. "You think the Cybermen took them?"

"Seems like it."

"Crap," Sam said softly, studying his brother.

Dean's jaw bunched, and his hands gripped his coffee cup so tightly that the sides were caving in.

"You okay?" Sam asked.

"What do you think? I suggest we run for the first time in my life, and now two more people go missing."

"Dean, it's not your fault..."

Dean glared at him. "I know it's not my fault. I'm not the one who told those kids that heading to the island for a make-out session was a good idea. Do you have to turn everything into a freakin' touchy-feely moment?"

Sam held up his hands. "Okay, fine."

"Where's Dad's journal?"

Sam picked it up from his nightstand and tossed it to him.

Dean opened it and pulled out the loose page with the sketch of the Cyberman. As he studied it, Sam opened his laptop and pulled up the Google search last night. There was one more page left on the search.

Sam shrugged and clicked the next button. It wasn't like he had anything else left to try.

"I wonder who this Doctor is, anyway," Dean muttered.

The hair on the back of Sam's neck stood up as he read the only link on the page.

_Doctor Who?_

_Have you seen this man? The Doctor...attracted to paranormal events throughout history...said to travel in a blue box..._

"Dean?" Sam spun the laptop around him.

Dean leaned forward and read the page. A few seconds later his eyes flicked up at Sam. "You serious? You're not just getting me back for the whoopie cushion the other night?"

"That wasn't funny, and no, I'm not getting you back."

"Dude, it was funny. The look the old lady at the next table gave you..." Dean sat up straight, shaking his head. "I don't know, man. Dad doesn't mention a blue box or whatever, and besides, showing up through history? Time travel? Whoever wrote that website is smokin' something."

"Huh, Dad not tellin' us something. Imagine that."

Dean looked up at him, eyebrows raised, lips pursed. "Let it go, man."

Sam clicked the link and scanned the site. "So get this. The guys running this site-Clive Finch and Mickey Smith-have a couple of theories. One, the Doctor is a title handed down from father to son, and they make a habit of showing up at various historical events. The second theory is that this guy is a time traveler who travels in a blue police box. And everywhere he shows up, bad stuff happens."

"I vote theory one. What the heck is a police box, anyway?"

"They were used in both America and the U.K. as a way for the public to call for police help. Or, sometimes the police themselves used it. Haven't been in use much since the '60s or '70s."

Dean slapped the journal down on his bed. "You realize you scare chicks off by spouting this kind of stuff, right? Where do you keep all this useless trivia?"

Sam smirked. "Not so useless after all, is it?"

Dean planted his hand on Sam's face and shoved him back. Sam kicked Dean's leg, grabbing at him.

"Okay, okay." Dean pulled back before Sam could get a good grip on his t-shirt. "So how do we contact this guy?"

"Well, the website says he's attracted to paranormal and alien events."

Dean snorted. "Why hasn't he showed up to help us out a couple of times?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Maybe we can make something look paranormal. Crop circle? Think he'd show up for that?"

"One, we're in the middle of a pine forest, and I don't want to drive hours away just to have to haul this guy back who-knows-when. If he shows up. Two, I'm not gonna drive my car through a corn field."

"Aww, afraid your baby will get a scratch?"

"I already had to shoot out a window because of you."

_When…oh. The Woman in White_. Sam grimaced. "Yeah, don't remind me."

Dean laughed. "Besides, crop circles? That's so cliche that no one worth their weight in salt would check out something like that. Short of writing his name on the beach in wood and lighting it up, I don't think he's gonna be interested."

"Hey, you actually had a decent idea for once." Sam stood and started shoving stuff into his backpack.

"You're not serious."

"You got any better ideas?"

Dean made a face, but followed him out the door.

They made a stop at the gas station for a breakfast of greasy, rubbery egg sandwiches, then drove past the island road to the next lake access point. Sam threw everything he thought they'd need-weapons, fuel, lighters, salt-into backpacks while Dean hiked up the beach to make sure they wouldn't be disturbed by the police scouring the island for the two missing teens.

They spent the day gathering dead wood from the forest and arranging it on the beach to spell 'Doctor', since that was the only name they had for this guy. Just before sundown at seven, Sam hiked back up to the island. Most of the police presence was gone-there was only one cruiser blocking the parking lot, and he looked like he was packing up.

When he got back to their signal, Dean was soaking the wood with lighter fluid, eating a chunk of beef jerky. The bag lay on the beach, crumpled and empty.

Sam just looked at him.

"Puppy-dog eyes over beef jerky?"

"We haven't eaten since breakfast, Dean."

Dean grinned and threw him another bag from his pocket.

Sam checked to make sure it was still sealed, then checked the expiration date. Yeah, it was beef jerky, but this was the guy who had once let a can of Spam rattle around in the back of the car until it went bad and exploded. The jerky had a good three months until the expiration date. He tore open the package.

The sun had sunk below the horizon, but a few orange streaks still colored the dark, clear water of the lake. Dean tossed a box of matches in his hand.

"Now good?" he asked.

Sam shrugged.

Dean struck a match and tossed it on the 'D'. The fuel-soaked wood caught immediately and Sam moved back as the heat stung his face. Dean moved down the beach, lighting each letter in turn, until the entire word was flaming, sending sparks and shimmers of heat into the dark blue sky.

Dean shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, staring up at the sky. "Think this is gonna work?"

Sam shrugged. "Hope so."

"Yeah, me too. If it doesn't..." He rubbed his face. "I don't know what will take care of those Cybermen beyond a case of dynamite."

Sam nodded, stuffing a piece of jerky into his mouth. He wasn't going to mention it, but he was already having doubts about this plan. How was the Doctor-whoever he was-going to see the fire? It wasn't like he was floating around above them, watching for a Bat-signal.

And if they didn't get hold of the Doctor? Dean was right. And it would be next to impossible for them to buy or rig an explosion strong enough. That wasn't their style, or any hunter's style, really.

"Nature calls," Dean muttered, tramping past him into the woods.

"You got a gun?" Sam yelled after him.

In response, Dean waved his pistol over his head, then stuffed it back into his pocket.

Sam finished the jerky and tossed the bag into the fire. It shrank in on itself, sending up a curl of black smoke.


	6. Episode 2: The Blue Box part 3

_**~*~OK, not only did I just realize I was late for this week, BUT I realized I didn't post this part here last time! Guys, I am so sorry! These last couple of weeks have been interesting. Let's just say I had a string of days that felt like Tuesdays and Thursdays all mashed together... Anyway. Just look at it this way! You have two parts this week and not as long to wait until the next part! ;) ~*~**_

Just a quick jaunt to check out a few spots, a run back to collect their luggage and Rory after he finished work, and a relaxing week-long vacation. That's what the Doctor had promised.

Amy leaned against the TARDIS control room railing, watching her son-in-law—_Oi, that just sounds weird_—stare at one of the viewscreens. Maybe it had been several months since she and Rory had traveled regularly with the Doctor, but she knew that look. That curious, squinty, puzzled look always came just before he poked something that shouldn't be poked.

"Doctor?"

"Hmm, yes. Hang on."

That was his distracted voice too. Amy stood and walked over to the console. He tilted the screen away.

She raised her eyebrows. "What are you looking at?"

He gave her a sheepish grin. "Nothing much."

"Where are we?"

"Not in space, I can tell you that." The Doctor tapped the screen, then smiled. "Earth, the United States. Upper Peninsula of Michigan. Ahh, look at that. You humans, clever as always."

Amy pulled the screen toward herself. It was too dark outside for the cameras to pick up much detail, but one thing blazed out clearly from the center of the screen—big, glowing letters spelling out one word.

_DOCTOR_.

She groaned.

"Well, personally I thought it was rather clever. Never had my name on fire before."

"Why did you bring us here?"

"I didn't!" The Doctor tapped the glass of the console. "_I _was trying to head for the Kalamatazoo mountains on the planet Oofdos. Heard they have lovely downhill skiing there. But the TARDIS brought us here instead." He swiveled the viewscreen back toward himself, and a little smile curled his lips, crinkling the skin around the corners of his eyes. "You have to be curious. After all, who knows enough about me to call me like this?"

Amy crossed her arms and tried to look stern, but it was basically useless. She huffed out a laugh and leaned against the railing. "Do you even understand the meaning of 'vacation'?"

The Doctor grinned and began flicking switches. "Just a quick peek, promise, then we'll pop back to Rory and go on with our vacation!"

The TARDIS lurched, and Amy sat down on one of the captain's seats, grabbing the arms tightly. The Doctor let out a laugh.

Within a few seconds, the TARDIS landed with a thump. The Doctor skipped past the controls and ran for the door, shouting over his shoulder, "Come along, Pond!"

Sam started around the letter 'D', edging partially-burnt logs back into the main blaze. Just as he came halfway around, over the crackling of the fire, he heard a loud _vvvwooorp_, _vvvwooorp _from behind him.

"Dean!" he yelled, turning around.

A blue police box was fading in and out of visibility closer to the water's edge.

Footsteps thumped on the sand, and Dean joined him, eyes narrowed. "What in the-"

The police box thumped into the sound, yellow light shining from the windows set into the door.

Dean pulled his pistol from his pocket, cocked it.

"Hey, hey." Sam grabbed his arm.

Dean pulled away from him. "Dude, we don't know for sure what this thing is!"

"Yeah, like anyone's gonna be interested in helping us if the first thing they see is you pointing a gun at them!"

The door creaked open. Dean immediately hid the pistol behind his back.

A skinny guy with long, floppy hair poked his head out. He caught sight of them, and a huge grin spread over his face, lighting up his eyes. He hopped from the police box. "Hello! I'm the Doctor."

Sam tried not to laugh. The guy wore a striped shirt, a brown sports coat with elbow patches, a bowtie, and pants an inch or so too short, making him look like a couple of his more eccentric college professors. The guy certainly didn't look like anything he'd expected.

"The Doctor-what?" Dean said slowly, his forehead wrinkling. "Sam? This is the Doctor?"

"Wrong question," the Doctor said, the stupid grin becoming even wider.

Sam did laugh then, sticking his hand out. "Hey. I'm Sam Winchester. This my brother Dean."

The Doctor shook his hand, still smiling. "Sam! Dean! Nice to meet you, Winchesters. I'm the Doctor. Well, I already said that, didn't I? And this is my companion, Amy Pond." He gestured back at the police box.

A girl with long red hair was leaning against the doorframe and staring them suspiciously.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Dean slip his pistol into the back of his jeans and pull his coat over it. _Oh no. Dean, seriously, for once…_

Dean sent Amy what he considered his 'sexy' grin. "Hey. I'm Dean."

Amy looked at him, raised one eyebrow, and frowned. Then she looked over at the Doctor. "A Neanderthal and Bigfoot? Really?"

"Hey!" Dean said. "We only called for the Doc. You didn't have to show up, Red."

Amy crossed her arms.

Sam looked over at the Doctor. The guy's eyebrows were up nearly at his hairline, and his eyes darted back and forth between Dean and Amy uneasily.

"Ah, sorry 'bout her," he said, finally settling on addressing Sam. "Got up on the wrong side of the bed or something this morning."

"Oi!" Amy smacked the Doctor's arm, but an affectionate smile curled one side of her lips.

Sam chuckled. "Don't worry about it. That's my brother every day."

"Har-har, funny man," Dean muttered.

"So. Anyway." The Doctor rubbed his hands together and walked past Sam, studying the fire. "Very clever, this. Someone once carved my name into the oldest cliff in the universe to catch my attention, but this—this is new. Very good. Now, obviously, you were looking for me. Here I am. What do you want?"

Dean glanced at Sam, his skeptical look saying it all. _This guy for real?_

Sam shrugged.

Dean turned back to the Doctor. "OK, Doc, ever heard of mechanical monsters called Cybermen?"

The Doctor faced him, his smile gone, his face still and very serious. Amy, who was still standing close to the police box, went pale and wide-eyed.

"I take it you have," Sam said.

"Yeeees. They've gotten sneaky over the last few years. Prefer to hide and snatch up people a few at a time. Nasty piece of work, they are." The Doctor turned his head to the side, eyes narrowing. "The question is, how did _you_ hear about them?"

"We, ah—" Sam looked over at Dean and shrugged helplessly. His brother was usually the better liar.

"It's sort of what we do," Dean said.

"What is, exactly?" Amy asked.

"We hear rumors of weird stuff, we go check it out," Dean told her. "Not so different from what you do, if I understand it right, Doc."

"But you've never run into Cybermen before," Amy said.

Dean frowned. "I didn't say that."

"Why else would you have called the Doctor? I mean, if you knew how to take care of them yourselves…"

Sam elbowed Dean. "Okay, so we've never heard of them before. Our type of monsters tend to be a bit…different." He pulled Dad's journal from his backpack and opened it to the page with the Cyberman. He held it out to the Doctor, keeping his thumb firmly in place on the rest of the pages so the Doctor couldn't flip through the rest of the journal.

To his credit, the Doctor didn't even touch the journal. He leaned forward, frowning at the drawing, then looked up directly into Sam's eyes. His ice-clue gaze was narrow, cold. "Tell me."

"We heard rumors that people were disappearing, so we came to check it out. Ran into these guys yesterday on the island up the beach. They kept talking about _upgrading_ people, and their ship had this weird machine…"

"Wait." The Doctor grabbed Sam's shoulders.

"Whoa, whoa," Dean said, grabbing at the Doctor's arm. "Let him go."

The Doctor shrugged away from Dean, his eyes still locked on Sam. "Tell me all of it. How did you get on their ship? What did you see? And you—" He shot a glare at Dean. "Stop talking!"

"Look, I get that you know about these Cybermen, but—" Dean started.

"Just stop talking! The only voice I want to hear is your brother's right now, because this could be very important, so shut up!"

Dean jerked back, eyebrows going up, glancing in surprise at Sam. Sam just motioned for him to calm down.

The Doctor took a deep breath and slowly relaxed his grip on Sam's arms. "Tell me everything, please. Don't leave a single detail out. Could be important."

So Sam told him. That they'd heard of people disappearing (but he didn't tell him about Ellen and the Roadhouse—the Doc didn't need to know about that), that they'd come up to stop the monster, that the Cybermen had surprised them and taken them captive, how they'd escaped. He left out the vision too, because he didn't want to get into the questions that would raise.

When he finished, the Doctor took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair, muttering to himself. The strange man paced away from them, kicking at the now-dying coals of the fire.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Dean asked Amy. "He's not gonna blow something in his brain, is he?"

"He does this all the time." Amy stepped closer to Sam, arms crossed over her chest. "So you guys do this sort of thing for a living?"

Over her head, Sam could just see Dean's eyes scrunching, the swift shake of his head. He suppressed a sigh. "Sort of."

Amy smirked. "That's not really an answer."

Sam shrugged.

"Ssh." The Doctor suddenly swung around, reached into his coat and pulled out a thin copper-and-silver tube. He flicked it, and a green bulb at the end lit up, an annoying buzz that set Sam's teeth on edge filled the air.

"Umm, what's he doing?" Sam asked Amy.

"Doctor?" she asked.

"Shush." Without even looking at Dean, the Doctor held up his index finger. "Especially you."

Dean closed his mouth.

"Come on." The Doctor flicked the copper tube again. "Come on. Don't you go on the blink now."

He turned into a slow circle, and the buzzing intensified as he swung his arm toward the woods. Sam stared into the pine trees, frowning, an uneasy feeling growing in his gut. What was wrong? He couldn't…

No noise. Besides the soft rush of waves on the beach, the insect noise had died. Just like on the island. "Dean—"

"Yeah, yeah." Dean pulled out his gun.

"I'm getting some very strange readings," the Doctor said. "I've never, ever seen anything like this. Cybermen, you said? But this isn't Cyberman…it can't be…I don't know what…"

A laser shot out of the woods, digging a head-sized crater into the sand next to Dean. "Sonofa—"

"Run! TARDIS! Now!" the Doctor yelled.

Without a word, Amy grabbed Sam's arm and took off for the police box, dragging him a few steps before he pulled free. Another laser hit the fire, sending a shower of hot coals into the air. Sam ducked and wrapped his arms around his head.

The sharp report of a gun cracked through the air.

Sam stopped and whirled. Dean was aiming at shadows in the woods, shadows that had blue glowing lights on their foreheads.

Before he could run back to his brother, the Doctor grabbed Dean's arm and, with more strength than Sam would have given him credit for, shoved him toward the police box. Sam squeezed into the doorway after Amy then turned.

A laser smacked the ground at Dean and the Doctor's feet, propelling them forward and into the box. Dean's shoulder slammed into Sam's stomach, and huffed, stumbling back, expecting his back to slam into the back of the box at any second.

Instead he tumbled all the way over. The Doctor leaped over them, and the door slammed shut behind him, just missing Sam's feet.

Dean scrambled up, and Sam rolled onto his stomach, cringing. He had just enough time to scan the interior of the box-it was big, orange recessed lights set into the walls, the middle of the room filled with a glass platform containing some strange console and a tall glass tube that disappeared into the ceiling.

Then the box lurched. Sam thought at first they'd been hit by a Cyberman laser, but a loud rumble-the same noise he'd heard when the police box had first materialized on the beach-filled the room, and the structure started shaking, sending him skidding on the polished floor.

Dean fell back against the door, his face immediately going green. "Sam!" he yelled. "Do not tell me we're _flying_!"


	7. Episode 3: Talking Shadows part 1

As soon as the machine stopped lurching, Dean slid to the floor, moaning. His eyes were clenched shut. "Are we done yet?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we're done." Sam stood up, bracing on hand against the wall for balance, in case the Doctor suddenly started them off again.

Several staircases branched off the glass platform where the Doctor stood, two going up to doors and another heading downward to a brightly-lit hallway. The main room they stood in itself was probably twenty feet high, dimly light with orange lights set into the walls and ceiling. Beneath the glass console platform, there was another level that looked like it was filled with wires and electronics.

Sam grinned. This was _awesome_. Way better than anything he'd ever read about as a kid—and he'd devoured tons of science fiction and fantasy books when he was younger, constantly trying to escape the life his father was dragging them through. Someone cleared his throat. Sam looked up.

The Doctor stood at the top of the ramp, glaring down at Sam and Dean. He held up his hand, his fingers closed tight around Dean's gun. "You could've seriously hurt someone, and _not_ the Cybermen, either!"

"Oh, please, give me a bit more credit than that." Dean's voice was strong, but he wobbled a little as he stood up.

"Is that what you do, travel around shooting first and asking questions later?"

"We kinda already had Q and A time, Doc, and those Cybermen weren't real friendly about it." Dean took a step forward and held out his hand. "Give my gun?"

"Sorry." The Doctor marched over to the console, crouched, and opened a panel beneath the round, instrument-filled panel. He chucked the gun inside and slammed the panel closed.

"Aw, c'mon," Dean muttered. "That was my favorite gun."

Amy stood up from one of the yellow-vinyl captain's chairs set beside the platform railing. "You have a favorite gun, really?"

"Don't start, Red."

She glared at him.

Sam blew out a breath. "Okay, anyone else feel like we got started off on the wrong foot?"

The Doctor's hard eyes softened a little. "Sorry. I just—I don't like guns. I find they generally seem to create more problems than they solve."

Dean snorted.

Sam glared at him, then turned back to the Doctor. "Okay, so, do the Cybermen usually attack like that? It seems a lot different than sneaking around and kidnapping people, which is what they've done so far."

"No. Right! It is different. Strange, not their usual M.O. at all." The Doctor fiddled with the strange copper tube he'd had earlier. He noticed Sam's curious look and grinned. "Sonic screwdriver. Handy little gadget, basically a Timelord's multi-tool."

"A what?" Dean asked.

"Timelord." The Doctor pointed to himself. "Me, Timelord."

Dean tucked his chin and raised his eyebrows. "Uh huh. Right. Sammy?" He jerked his head to the side. "Can we talk?"

"Just a minute," Sam said to the Doctor.

The brothers crowded to one side of the room, between the walls and one of the staircases. For a moment, they just watched as the Doctor moved around the console, pulling a couple of screens on swinging arms around and poking at different components on the console, all the while frowning and muttering to himself. Did he have an old _telephone_ in the bank of buttons and switches? Amy leaned against the railing and occasionally threw glances over her shoulder at them.

Dean cleared his throat. "Dude, this is weird."

"Yeah," Sam said. "But it was on the website. This proves that the time-travel theory is true. This guy really does travel through time and help people."

"Bobby says there's no such thing as aliens, and you know who I'm inclined to trust right now?"

"Bobby."

"Bobby. Which means this guy is some paranoid delusional nutcase."

"Thank you!" the Doctor shouted.

Dean winced.

Sam chuckled. "And how do you explain the police box?"

For a moment, Dean was quiet, his lips pressed tightly together as he watched the Doctor and Amy. Sam could see the wheels turning in his brother's head, the older Winchester coming to a decision.

Dean shook his head, glanced over at the door. "No. No, no, no. Sam, the Cybermen were bad enough. We're not getting involved in any crazy alien stuff. I'm done. " He headed for the blue, glass-paneled door, raising his voice. "Hey, Doc? You know what, now that you know the problem, we're just gonna leave you to it, okay?"

"I wouldn't do that!" the Doctor said, coming to lean on the railing.

Dean pulled open the door. "Sonofa-!"

Over his brother's shoulder, Sam caught a glimpse of dark, rippling lake, the moon sending a track of silver through the gentle waves. Dean slammed the door shut and leaned on it, his shoulders tense.

"Where are we?" he demanded.

"Oh, about two hundred feet above the middle of Lake Superior," the Doctor said.

Dean clenched his hands into fists and thrust his chin forward as he slowly turned to meet the Doctor's gaze. Ready for a fight.

_Aw, crap._ Sam stepped between him and the Doctor, holding his hands out halfway between them. "Dean. Dude, stop."

"We're gettin' outta here, Sam." Dean's voice was low, tight. "Before this whack-job gets one of us hurt."

_Before he gets you hurt_. Sam could read between the lines. He sighed. "I don't think we're in any danger."

"Oh, really? Cause last I checked, humans aren't supposed to be hanging two hundred feet in the air! Don't tell me your little psychic weirdness crap is telling you we're okay, cause we're not."

The Doctor made an interested, "Hmm!" noise. "You're psychic?"

"Yes—no." Sam sighed. "It's a long story."

Something on the console beeped, and the Doctor ran to it. He turned one of the screens this way and that, then smiled. "Gotcha." He turned back to the Winchesters and calpped his hands together. "Right. I know you don't trust me yet—either of you, really—but the Cybermen have left the beach." He leaned forward, his forehead wrinkling as he looked at them with a deep, earnest expression. "I can drop you off at your car, and you can rest assured that I'll take care of this. But I'm guessing that neither of you are men who like to leave a job half-done, yes? So come with me. Help me get rid of the Cybermen, and then you can pop off to go do whatever it is you normally do. I won't even invite you to come travel in the TARDIS with me. That ought to make you happy, eh, Amy?"

The redhead smiled and shook her head. "Whatever, Doctor."

Sam glanced at Dean. Dean still looked irritated, but Sam could tell his brother was softening. The Doctor had pegged him—he didn't want to leave the job unfinished, especially not since those teens had vanished last night, after Dean had wanted to give up on the job.

"This job, and this job _only_," Dean said. "Then you drop us off at the car, and we don't ever hear from you again."

The Doctor grinned. "Better take a seat then, off we go!"

Dean scrambled for one of the vinyl chairs, and Sam followed. He couldn't help a small grin from forming on his face. They were in a spaceship. A _spaceship_. With aliens.

Bobby was never going to believe this.


	8. Episode 3: Talking Shadows part 2

The short flight still left Dean with a white-knuckled grip on the chair's arms, but as soon as the TARDIS touched down, he was on his feet. Sam watched him stride to the door of the TARDIS with the Doctor, wondering if his brother would remember about the gun.

The Doctor swung the TARDIS door open, and the golden interior light splashed out in a rectangle on the forest floor, making the rest of the pine woods seem even darker than it should have been. They all stood crowded in the doorway, squinting out and trying to see into the forest.

"Well," said Amy. "Big heroes first."

"Hey, Doc, any chance I can have my gun back?" Dean asked.

"Nnnooooope," the Doctor answered. He fiddled with his sonic screwdriver, twisting some component below the green light, then stepped into the darkness, waving it about in a slow circle.

Dean waited until the Doctor looked thoroughly occupied with the sonic screwdriver, then ducked back from the door and snuck up the ramp. Sam leaned against the wall. This should be interesting. He had no doubt that the Doctor wouldn't just leave his space ship without some sort of safety mechanism that prevented unauthorized people from taking off with it. Dean crouched under the console and poked one finger at the metal panels.

"Was he humming _Metallica _while we were flying?" Amy asked in a low voice.

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, he does that when he's nervous."

Dean slid the tips of his fingers into the panel and pulled at it. Instantly, golden sparks skittered over the surface. Dean yelped and jerked back, smacking his head into the bottom of the console.

Over the sound of his swearing, the Doctor called back in, "She doesn't like you mucking about without permission!"

"No, really? I thought she was just sayin' hello." Dean stood up, rubbing the back of his head, and came back to the door. He noticed Sam's smirk and punched him in the shoulder. "Thanks a lot there, Gigantor."

"Are you lot going to come out here and be helpful, or just stand about in the doorway looking generally useless?" the Doctor asked.

Amy rolled her eyes and stepped from the TARDIS. As soon as he was sure her back was turned, Sam elbowed Dean in the arm. When he looked up, ready to retaliate, Sam put a finger to his lips, then slid the sleeve of his jacket up, revealing the throwing knives strapped to his forearm. _"Want one?" _he mouthed.

Dean grinned and pulled a knife from one of the sheaths, tucking it into his belt as he joined Amy and the Doctor outside. Sam pulled his sleeve back into place. The forearm sheaths had been one of his brother's best ideas. Dean had only used it a handful of times, but ever since the trick had gotten them away from Meg, Sam had made it a habit to keep at least one knife with him at all times. Sure, it couldn't do much against most monsters—and probably less against the Cybermen—but it was at least something.

When he stepped into the forest, the TARDIS door swung shut behind him, cutting off the light, except for what shown out on the windows above the door. Sam squinted and stayed by the police box's side until his night vision returned.

The Doctor stood in the middle of the clearing, his screwdriver now held up above his head, the little green light winking in and out. The noise had lessened a bit since earlier. Maybe he'd put it on stealth mode. Dean and Amy stood side by side, watching him.

"Area's clear, for now," the Doctor said, lowering the screwdriver.

Dean immediately pulled his flashlight out of his pocket and flicked it on. Sam followed his example, playing the beam around the clearing.

It was the same one where they'd encountered the Cybermen yesterday. Sam could still see the scuff marks of his struggle, dug deep into the pine needles and dirt. Dean walked over to the jumble of rocks.

"Head's gone," he said shortly.

"The head?" Amy said. "You mean—oooh. I hate it when they do that."

"With the cables?" Dean asked.

Amy wrinkled her nose. "Ugh."

"You're tellin' me."

"The entrance was over here, Doctor," Sam said, walking around the right side of the rocks. "I think they must have a hologram or something covering the entrance."

"Good guess, close enough," the Doctor said, waving the sonic screwdriver.

The side of the rock dissolved, and he darted inside. Sam followed him.

The first chamber was as black as the night outside. Sam switched his flashlight to his left hand and pressed his right hand against his left forearm, ready to pull the knife. They entered the second chamber without a problem. The green, dim lights were flickering, and sparks shot from a broken wire overhead. Dean aimed his flashlight at the conversion device, but it stood empty, the clamps open, making it look like some kind of torture device.

The Doctor stopped, staring at the device, his eyes narrowed. "Nasty," he muttered, circling it.

Dean jerked his head at the four prison room doors lining the back wall.

"I got it," Sam said.

Dean nodded and stepped a little closer to the Doctor's side, his hand hovering near the knife in his belt.

The first three doors hung open, and the rooms empty. The last one stood with the door partially closed, swinging on one hinge. Sam pushed it open and cautiously shone his flashlight inside. This was the room where Dean and he had been held—the Cybermen hadn't repaired the mess they'd made of the wires and lockpad. They hadn't busted the door when they'd escaped though.

His flashlight beam caught something in the corner of the room. A pink and gray sneaker. Sam's gut tensed as he stepped in, reached down and picked it up. Size 6 1/2. The girl had to be tiny. The sneaker was dusty, and bits of pine needles and sap were stuck to the sole, but there was no blood.

"Sam?" Dean poked his head into the room.

Sam held up the shoe.

Dean's face tightened. "C'mon, the Doc wants to move on."

The Doctor stood near one of the other hallways, long fingers fidgeting with his sonic screwdriver.

"How many Cybermen did you say there were?" he asked abruptly.

Dean tucked his lower lip under his teeth as he thought. "Four, counting the Headless Horseman."

"Yeah, with another guy being converted," Sam said.

Amy winced. Sam got the feeling that she'd seen the conversion process before.

"Why? What's up, Doc?" Dean asked, then grinned. "Heh. I've always wanted to say that."

Amy and the Doctor just looked at him, and Sam sighed.

"Not the time, dude."

"There is _always _time for Bugs Bunny, Sammy."

Amy threw a pitying glance at Sam. "Mentality of an eight-year-old, yeah?"

"Try five-year-old, and you're closer to the mark," Sam replied.

Dean bopped Sam over the head with his flashlight. "Says the overgrown—"

"Enough," the Doctor said, his voice sharp. "I'm not picking up any life signs, and that's not good. That either means they've run off, abandoned the ship—which is wrong, that's a fear response, the Cybermen don't have emotions—or"

"Or something killed them," Sam finished.

"Right. So stick close, keep your mouths shut, and don't wander off, that always complicates things. Especially you, Pond." He turned and marched down the hallway, illuminated by the dim, flickering green lights overhead and the occasional burst of sparks.

Amy huffed and followed him.

The hallway curved slightly, the strange metal walls only occasionally broken with an inevitably locked door. That didn't stop the Doctor from trying each one he came across. They walked in silence for a few minutes. In the corner of his eyes, Sam could see how tense Dean was. They both jumped at every spark and every creak of the ship. Amy and the Doctor were no less jumpy.

Finally the hallway took an abrupt right turn and dumped them out into a large control room. In the front of the room was a clear panel that showed a few pine trees, the edge of a cliff, and the dark expanse of Lake Superior stretching toward Canada. Several small consoles were dotted in front of the screen, and banks of some kind of computer-like devices filled the right and left walls.

"That's…not good," the Doctor said. He was looking down.

Sam shone his flashlight at the Doctor's feet.

One of the Cybermen lay sprawled on its back on the floor. Sam recognized it as the one that had dragged him out of their prison—scorch marks from Dean's flare gun marred the otherwise pristine silver armor. Amy gasped and jumped backward, smacking into Sam. He caught her shoulders.

"It's okay," he said. "I—I think it's—"

"Dead," came the Doctor's confirming voice. "They're all dead."


	9. Episode 3: Talking Shadows part 3

_**~*~OK, sorry again. Monday's just a terrible day for me all the way around. I'm moving the update day to Tuesday. *Heat of the Moment echoes in the background*  
>Also, the question was asked about when this story is set in the Supernatural timeline. It's somewhere between the Season 2 episodes "Bloodlust" and "Croatoan". I know the timelines don't match up in real life (as the Doctor's timeline is between season 6 and 7, and [when they arrive, eventually-soon, I promise!-Sherlock's timeline is at the end of Season 3), but just play along with me here. ;)<br>Part of the reason I did this was because when I started this fic, I had just started season 2 (I'm now in the middle of season 6...Sammy's back to normal, yay!) and also because I wanted a point in the guys' lives when they were still relatively happy. So, unfortunately, there will be no Cas, no Gabriel, no Crowley-sorry to all who have been asking.  
>HOWEVER-I already have an idea for a couple more fics, one of at least is SuperWhoLock, set in the later seasons of Supernatural. So, Cas will go on an adventure in the TARDIS at some point in the near future. :)<br>And as always, THANK YOU, THANK YOU to everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed. All y'alls' reactions have been a constant source of inspiration and encouragement to me!**_**_ As always, enjoy this episode!~*~  
><em>**

The Doctor's voice echoed in the room, deep and somber in the finality of his declaration.

_Dead_, Sam thought. _How can the Cybermen be dead? They were shooting at us less than an hour ago._

The Doctor raised his sonic screwdriver and pointed it at one of the consoles. The lights in the room brightened, enough that Sam switched off his flashlight. The Doctor was right. The Cyberman lying at his feet didn't move, didn't even twitch as the Doctor stepped over him and started tapping the screens on one of the consoles. Another Cyberman sprawled in a chair by the left-hand computers, arms dangling toward the floor, head cocked much too far to one side. The others were lying in a tangle near the front of the room.

A flash of pink caught Sam's eye. He tapped Dean's shoulder and moved forward, stepping over the Cyberman body, brushing past the Doctor. He rounded the console where he'd seen the pink and stopped, cringing.

Two almost adult-size skeletons, clad in jeans, one in a fleecy pink jacket, and the other in a gray hoodie, lay curled in the corner between the wall and the console, as if trying to escape the carnage.

Dean swore.

Sam gulped down acid and knelt, reaching out to finger the edge of the gray NMU hoodie. "Their clothes are fine, but their bodies look like they've been buried for years."

"Not buried," Dean said, his voice artificially calm. "The bones aren't stained. It's more like they've been…dipped in acid or something that completely stripped the flesh from them."

Sam winced as he stood. "Thanks for that."

"This is wrong, this is just wrong!" the Doctor said. He stepped up beside Dean, and his face hardened even more at the sight of the teenagers' skeletons.

"Doc…" Sam stepped around the console.

The Doctor's arm shot out, grabbing the front of Sam's shirt.

"Doctor!" Amy cried.

"Did you do this? I saw the scorch mark on that Cyberman's chest. Is this your fault?" the Doctor snarled at Sam.

Sam's stomach sank. _He knows about the demons after me. He knows…_

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Dean slowly reached for the Doctor's wrist and grasped it. "This ain't our fault."

_Our fault. _Sam swallowed hard. _He's blaming Dean too, not just me. He can't know about the demons. _

"I blasted that Cyberman with a flare gun, dude. It shouldn't have done anything other than freak it out a little. We told you the truth, we didn't do this. Besides, we were with you in the TARDIS, remember?"

Slowly, very slowly, the Doctor uncurled his fingers from Sam's shirt. Sam took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders, willing his heart to get back into place in his chest and stop pounding so hard. For a split second there, despite the Doctor's stance of non-violence, he'd been sure the man—alien—was going to hurt him. Sam would've defended himself, of course, and Dean wouldn't have just stood there, but there had been a flash of something freaky in the Doctor's eyes, something dark and angry that scared the crap out of Sam, because…

He swallowed again. _Because I've seen that look in Dad's eyes. In Dean's eyes._

"Sorry," the Doctor muttered, shrugging off Amy's hand on his jacket. He knelt down beside one of the Cybermen and pulled his sonic screwdriver from his pocket, running it over one of the silver bodies.

"Okay, so, Doc, what is this?" Dean asked. "What could strip flesh from bone like that?"

"I don't know," the Doctor muttered. "And I don't much like not knowing. Here, Sam, Amy, help me with this."

Sam crouched down beside him, and Amy knelt on the other side of the Cyberman. Together, they rolled the Cyberman on its side, and the Doctor ran the screwdriver down the seam in the metal armor. The armor cracked, and Sam pulled it apart.

More white bones clattered to the floor.

"Well." Dean leaned his hands on his knees and stared at the metal suit full of bones. "Cyberman use the meat, don't they? They don't just use bones to rattle around in those tin suits of theirs."

"No." The Doctor frowned.

"What a sec." Dean straightened and looked around the room, his lips moving as he muttered under his breath. "There's only four Cybermen here. Where's Headless?"

As if that was a cue, from the corridor outside, Sam heard a deep, echoing boom. More noises followed—footsteps.

Dean swore and scrambled to his feet, drawing his knife from his belt. "Stupid! You'd think we're freakin' amateurs or somethin'!"

Sam angled his body in front of the Doctor and Amy, drawing his own knife from his sleeve.

The huge Cyberman stepped into the room, ducking its head to avoid the doorframe. It saw them and paused, turning its head from side to side.

Dean stepped up to Sam's side. "Thought you said you didn't detect any life signs or whatever, Doc."

"That's because I didn't!" The Doctor stood up, grabbed Dean's arm.

The eyes. Those blue glassed eyes should have been glowing, but they weren't.

"It's not alive," Sam said in unison with the Doctor.

"Aww, man," Dean muttered. "Zombie Tin Man. That's all we need. Hey, Ugly! What d'ya want?"

The Cyberman's head turned toward Dean, and a voice crackled from the metal skull. "Dean…Winchester. You would have been such a good addition to our ranks."

"Am I supposed to be flattered about that?"

"Ah, hello." The Doctor squirmed between Dean and Sam and waved, an idiotic grin pasted on his face.

If a Cyberman could look irritated, this one did. "Doctor."

"Right, hullo, that's me!" The Doctor strode forward, clasping his hands behind his back.

Dean tried to pull him back, but the Doctor shrugged off his hand.

"It's okay, he does this all the time," Amy said from behind them.

"Geez, and I thought he was bad." Dean gestured to Sam. "How are you not a nervous wreck?"

"Ssh," Sam hissed. He didn't want to miss a word of the Doctor's confrontation with the Cyberman.

"Seems you know the Winchesters," the Doctor said, continuing his pacing in front of the still Cyberman. "And if you've heard of me you've probably heard of my companion, Amy Pond. So you know who we are, but what are you? Not a Cyberman."

The giant silver head tipped to the side, as if in acknowledgment.

"No, 'cause Cybermen are alive, they live, they breathe, and even if they don't have emotions, they still show up when you do a scan for living, breathing things! So you're not a Cyberman, which means—" The Doctor looked the Cyberman up and down.

And froze.

The overhead lights flickered.

"Doctor?" Amy said.

"Lights!" the Doctor shouted, scrambling backward and nearly running Dean over. "Shine your lights on it, on the floor, get rid of the shadows!"

The Cyberman lunged after the Doctor. Sam fumbled out his flashlight and shone it at the Cyberman's feet. For a split second, he thought he saw two shadows, then Dean's flashlight beam hit the Cyberman and the shadows scattered. The Cyberman collapsed, bones rattling in his suit.

"Run, now!" The Doctor shouted. "Don't stop, don't step in the shadows, and just run!"

Sam ran. He pounded through the hallway, his flashlight beam bobbing up and down on the ground in front of him. Behind him, he could hear the others running, and something else…the sound of light bulbs popping and sparking. One burst over their heads, and Sam ducked away from the shower of green sparks.

They all tumbled out of the Cybermen ship. The Doctor elbowed past Sam, sprinting all out toward the TARDIS. He threw open the door and dashed inside.

Sam tripped. He slammed into the ground hard, taking all of his weight on his elbows. For a split second, he thought he saw something dark skittering over his hands. He gasped and pushed away, brushing at the swarm, a knot clenching in his stomach. And then Dean grabbed him, yanked him up, hauled him toward the TARDIS. His feet felt like lead, and he stumbled, almost dragging Dean down with him.

As soon as their feet hit the golden rectangle of light spilling onto the forest floor from the TARDIS, Sam tripped again. This time he did take Dean down, and they sprawled against the police box. Dean thudded into something with a yelp.

Sam looked back into the forest, pushing his bangs back from his face. Something churned at the edge of the TARDIS's light, something as pure black as a demon's eyes, and then it was gone, retreating into the darkness of the forest.

Sam huffed out a breath and dropped his head onto Dean's leg.


	10. Episode 4: Wishes In Time part 1

"Dude, get off me." Dean smacked his head. "You're like a giant gorilla sitting on my feet."

"How many gorillas have you had sit on you, precisely?" Amy asked from the TARDIS doorway.

Dean pointed a finger at her. "Don't you start, Red."

Amy laughed.

Sam got up, wincing. He was going to have a bruise the size and shape of Dean's steel-toed boot in his back tomorrow.

"Sam? Dean?" The Doctor poked his head out. "What do your shadows look like?"

"Our what? Oh, by the way, thanks a crapload for your help there, Doc." Dean got up, rubbing his shoulder.

"What was that, anyway? The two shadows thing?" Amy asked.

"You saw that too?" Sam asked.

She nodded.

The Doctor sighed. "It's nothing good. Shadows, please, Winchesters."

Dean held his arms out. "See? One shadow. Happy now?"

The Doctor looked at Sam.

Sam brushed his jacket off and looked down at himself. One shadow stretched away from his boots, long and narrow. "One shadow."

The Doctor flicked the sonic screwdriver up and down, scanning both of them, then looked back at Dean. "Not entirely happy, no, but you can come in now, I suppose."

"Oh gee, thanks, I feel so welcome."

The Doctor scampered to the TARDIS console and squinted at a screen, fiddling with two knobs as the screen flashed through a strange pattern of circles and whorls that Sam didn't recognize.

Dean stomped up the ramp and flung himself down in a chair, legs stretched out in front of him.

"Is the Doctor always this cryptic?" Sam asked Amy. Before he closed the door, he peeked back out into the forest, but the shadows stayed where they belonged, beyond the TARDIS light. He let the door swing shut.

"Sometimes," Amy said. "Usually when it's really bad and he doesn't want to admit it."

"Oi, I've still got ears, does everyone think I've suddenly gone deaf tonight?" The Doctor twisted his head around.

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "Let's hear it then, Doc."

The Doctor scratched his neck. "All right, all right." He mirrored Dean, leaning against the console railing and crossing his arms over his chest. "Two shadows usually means Vashta Nerada."

"Which are?" Sam asked.

"Tree spores. Nasty tree spores that move around in shadows. If there are enough of them, they can strip the flesh from your bones in less than thirty seconds. Most planets with big forests have small colonies of them, though not normally enough to do any damage..." His voice trailed off, and his eyes deepened. He stared at the ground, lost in thought for a moment. Then he sighed. "The last time I ran into them, I lost a very dear friend of mine. Almost lost another too."

"And that's what killed the Cybermen?" Amy asked.

"Nope!" The Doctor spun around and resumed poking at his view screen.

Sam, Dean, and Amy exchanged disbelieving looks.

"Doctor!" Amy's voice was sharp.

The Doctor sighed. "Whatever we ran into in there, that wasn't Vashta Nerada."

"But the shadows..."

"It _looks_ like Vashta Nerada, but it doesn't _act_ like Vashta Nerada. It had plenty of chances to just take any one of us at any time while we were on that ship, and it didn't. Instead it waited and confronted us. And that's another thing Vashta Nerada don't do, they don't hold conversation." The Doctor picked up his screwdriver and turned it in his hands, muttering under his breath. Sam couldn't quite catch what he said, but it sounded something like, _"Who turned out the lights?" _

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Okay, then, creepy alien tree spores. How do you kill it?"

"What?" the Doctor stared at him. "No. No, you don't-you don't _kill _Vashta Nerada."

"Then what do you do?"

"You run. That's the only thing you can do. Besides, I thought you were done, remember? Cybermen. You said that was your problem, and now the Cybermen are gone." The Doctor sighed heavily. "I suppose I'll drop you off at your car now."

"Uh uh." Dean rose and poked at the Doctor's chest. "In case you hadn't noticed, we're in the middle of a pretty freakin' big pine forest. Creepy tree spores plus forest plus town nearby? I don't think that adds up to anything good. We're not going anywhere."

The Doctor glanced over at Sam. Sam shrugged, and he could have sworn that a tiny little smile tugged at the corner of the Doctor's mouth. But it was a quick expression, gone in an instant, and the Doctor faced Dean again, eyes serious and lips pressed in a tight line.

"You have to understand that this could be very dangerous. I've never seen anything like this. I don't know what it is."

Dean gave a harsh laugh and stepped back from the Doctor. "Welcome to our life."

Amy frowned. "Hang on, we're not thinking about just running off on some big adventure without Rory again, are we?"

The Doctor's eyes widened and his mouth formed a big O. "I forgot about Rory!"

Amy rolled her eyes. "Why does that not surprise me?"

"Who's Rory?" Sam asked.

"My husband," Amy said. She held up her left hand and wiggled her fingers so that the wedding band on her ring finger flashed in the light.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "You're married, but you still run around with the Doc in his spaceship? I mean, I know I'm the last to judge, but..."

"TARDIS," the Doctor said. "Time And Relative Dimension In Space."

"And it's not like you think," Amy said. "The Doctor's my son-in-law."

Sam blinked and rubbed his eyes. "Sorry, you said son-in-law?" He glanced back and forth between the Doctor and Amy. They looked close to the same age at first glance, though there was something about the Doctor...

"Ehh, wibbly-wobbly spacey-wacey stuff you're getting into there," the Doctor said, holding up his hand and waggling it back and forth.

"Excuse me?" Dean's eyebrow pulled together in his classic 'what the heck are you talking about' look. He glanced at Sam.

Sam shrugged.

"You're right, though, Amy. Wouldn't do to leave dear old Dad out of this, would it?" The Doctor gestured to the captain's seats. "If you'll please be seated, Winchesters. Five o'clock, London, England, coming right up. It'll take us a few hours to get there, so you'd best get comfortable."

Sam sat down beside Dean, glancing at his watch. "Five o'clock London time? It's already almost five o'clock in the morning here."

The Doctor grinned at him. "You weren't listening earlier, were you? _Time _and Relative Dimension In Space. We're going back to tomorrow night." He slapped the console. "The old girl's a time machine as well as a space ship."

The two brothers just glanced at each other, mouths gaping, and Sam knew Dean was thinking the exact same thing he was.

_Dad_.

"Whoa, hang on, Marvin," Dean said. "At least drop us back at our car first, huh? If we're gonna go spinning through some black hole or something-"

"Wormhole," Sam corrected automatically.

"_Whatever_. I want my stuff first."

The Doctor nodded and reset a dial. "I can understand that. One of my companions once brought basically everything but the kitchen sink. Five suitcases and three hatboxes." He smiled faintly. "Oh, Donna. She was a fighter, she was. She could've talked circles around you, Dean. Redhead."

"Got a thing for redheads?" Dean smirked.

Amy slapped his arm. "Oi!"

The Doctor cleared his throat, looking disconcerted. "Off we go, then!"


	11. Episode 4: Wishes In Time part 2

**~*~Hey, sorry for not posting last week! Holiday prep caught up to me. Have a Merry Christmas~*~**

"Dude," Sam whispered as he pulled open the passenger door of the Impala.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Dean stuck his head in the opposite window. He jerked his head at the big blue box parked on the hill in front of the Impala. "We'll talk about it later, huh?"

Sam nodded and concentrated on digging through the piles of stuff in the backseat. He unearthed his backpack from a mountain of fast food wrappers and grimaced at the smell of three-day-old burger that permeated the fabric.

His hands shook just a little as he loaded his laptop into the backpack and zipped it up. The Doctor had a time machine. They could go back to get Dad.

Heck, with that, they could probably go back and save Mom.

And Jess.

His stomach knotted, and he had to stop a moment and lean against the seat. They could stop all of this from ever happening. The demon blood, Mom's death, Jessica's death...it could all be stopped. They could grow up to be normal kids with a normal life. None of this hunting crap. He could go to college, be a lawyer, marry Jess, have kids.

_Dean _could have kids. The thought was a punch to the gut. Dean was good with kids, and Sam knew all he ever wanted was a family. It was why he fought so hard to keep him and Dad together through the years. He rubbed his face, pulled his fingers through his hair. This changed _everything_.

"That's an interesting collection you have there."

Sam jumped at the sound of Amy's voice. She stood at the trunk with Dean, appraising the secret compartment full of guns, knives, holy water, salt, and who-knew-what-else with one raised eyebrow.

Dean pulled open a duffel bag and tossed in a sawed-off shotgun. "Load up, Sammy, c'mon." He tossed another duffel bag at Sam.

Sam caught it, slung his backpack over one shoulder, and started pulling things from the trunk. He didn't have a clue as to what they'd need for fighting some shadowy alien thing, so he just threw in a bit of everything. As an afterthought, he tossed a lighter and lighter fluid on top of the weapons and zipped up the bag. Couldn't have shadows as long as you had light.

"The Doctor's not going to be happy about all that," Amy said quietly, glancing at the TARDIS.

Sam followed her look. The Doctor was visible inside, squinting at a screen over the top of round glasses. The lanky alien shook the screen, then tapped it several times, impatiently, his long face crinkled in a frown.

"Well, we're not under the Doc's orders," Dean said, pulling his bag of clothes from the trunk and slamming it shut.

"Sorry," Sam said to Amy. "We're not really used to working with people."

Amy grinned widely and nodded at Dean's back. "With him? I can see why."

They trooped into the TARDIS. The door swung shut behind them, and Sam and Dean braced themselves against the walls as they took flight. After several minutes, the shaking and grinding noises settled down, though they still had to shout to be heard.

The Doctor came down from the platform and motioned to the doorway under the stairs. "Might as well get you settled while we're traveling, eh?"

"Sounds good!" Dean shouted back.

They followed the Doctor into the brass-colored hallway. There were several doors along the righthand side of the hall. After a few steps, the lefthand side suddenly opened up into a bright yellow kitchen with white cabinet. Beyond the kitchen, Sam saw a living room area, with the same cheerful color scheme and dark green, cushy couches.

The Doctor had stopped and was studying the hallway in front of them. It stretched out for a fair ways, with non-matching doors interspersed on each side in uneven rows. At the end of the hallway was a tan metal door with a crosshatched, fogged-over glass window set into it. It looked familiar. Sam had seen dozens of doors like that in school gyms all over the country.

"Is that...a swimming pool?" he asked.

"And the library," the Doctor said.

"The _library_?" Sam took a couple of steps toward the door, a hundred questions swarming into his head. What kind of books would an alien with a space and time machine have? "How-"

"Easy, tiger." Dean grabbed his arm. "Let's get settled first, then you can browse to your nerdy little heart's content."

"Ah, here it is!" The Doctor stopped in front of a door and pushed it open.

Over his shoulder, Sam could see that the interior of the room looked like a log cabin, hung with fake aged hunting signs, but thankfully absent of any stuffed animal heads. Two full-size beds sat at opposite ends of the right side of the room, for once, giving him and Dean each enough space to spread out a little without encroaching on each other's space. That would save them a fight or two for sure. The bathroom door was beyond the furthest bed, and a desk sat against the wall to his left. It looked like one of the more decent hotel rooms he and Dean had stayed at.

He stepped into the room, and his feet sank into thick, navy blue carpet. Two wall-mounted lights and the lamp on the desk flicked on at the movement.

Dean flopped onto the bed closest to the door. "Awwww, yeah. This is great, Doc."

Sam placed his laptop case on the desk. "Yeah, this will work great."

The Doctor beamed. "Well, I'll let you get settled then." He headed back up the hallway. "Coming, Amy?"

"Tea first," Amy said. "I'm going to need it." She glanced at the brothers. "I don't suppose you'd want tea or coffee?"

"Tea is watered-down mud," Dean declared, still sprawled on the bed.

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm fine with whatever, Amy. Thanks."

She smiled and let the door swing shut on her way out. As soon as her footsteps receded down the hallway, Dean stood up and pushed the door open, poking his head out into the hallway.

"Dude, this is weird," he muttered. "How did the Doc know what kind of room we like? And how big is this thing, anyway? On the outside it barely looks like the four of us would fit into it."

"From the name, I'm guessing the ship is its own dimension or something," Sam said, opening his duffel bag.

"Or something? That's your best guess?"

"Hey, look, it's not like I studied this stuff in school, Dean."

Dean raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Sam sighed. "Okay, I took one class. But most of my knowledge is from sci-fi novels, and I'm guessing that it's not really that accurate."

"Nerd."

The two moved quickly, stowing their clothes in the dresser and hiding weapons around in the room in places that the Doctor wouldn't think to look. They hoped, anyway.

It was in putting their stuff away in the bathroom that Dean discovered the shower-a large walk-in that had not only a large overhead nozzle, but several built into the walls, all with different settings. He quickly decided that he deserved a nice shower after the events of the last couple of days.

"Besides, Sammy, the shower in that last hotel was crap. Nearly as cold as the lake."

Sam just chuckled as his brother disappeared into the bathroom. A few seconds later, the shower started up, and he could hear Dean humming the beginning strains of "Ramble On".

Sam changed out of his two-day-old clothes-or maybe only one-day-old, since they were going back in time...

He shook his head as he left the room. Time travel would probably really screw with his head if he thought about it too much. The sound of Dean belting out the chorus to "Renegade" followed him out into the hallway. He put his hand on the white metal wall, feeling the vibrations of the TARDIS as it carried them back in time. So many possibilities...

A clatter from the kitchen drew his attention. Sam walked to the large doorway and poked his head in.

Amy stood at the white glass-topped stove, putting a kettle on one of the back burners. She opened a cabinet above the stove and grabbed a dusty-looking coffee pot from the shelf.

"Need help?" Sam asked.

She jumped and whirled around, clutching the coffee maker like she was ready to hurl it at his head. "Don't _do_ that!"

"Sorry."

She placed the coffee maker on the counter. "You guys are coffee drinkers, yeah? Dean seems like a coffee drinker. Kinda has that all-American lumberjack thing going on, you know?"

Sam chuckled. "That's one way to put it."

She pointed to a drawer on the other side of the fridge. "Coffee and tea's in there, could you grab them?"

Sam opened the indicated drawer and pulled out a silver bag of his favorite coffee brand, one that was a dozen times better than any gas station sludge he'd had over the past year and a half. He raised his eyebrows. Okay, that was weird. Maybe it was coincidence, but his life was too full of weirdness for him to let it pass. "Any of you guys coffee drinkers?"

"Rory is, sometimes, but it's been a while since we traveled with the Doctor. That's why the machine is so dusty."

He held up the bag. "And this is an American brand."

Amy's eyebrows scrunched.

"First the room, which is a perfect set up for Dean and me, then my favorite coffee? That doesn't strike you as weird?"

"Ooooh. Right." Amy cradled her chin in one hand as she leaned against the counter. "The TARDIS is...now, this is gonna sound kinda strange."

Sam snorted.

"Right. Sorry. I keep forgetting that you guys are used to that. The TARDIS is sort of...alive."

"Alive," Sam repeated skeptically. He moved past Amy and started measuring the coffee into the machine. It was a good thing she was explaining this to him and not Dean. He could only imagine his brother coming to grips with the fact that the TARDIS was alive on top of being a spaceship and time machine.

"Yeah. Semi-sentient, at least. She builds new rooms, moves stuff around, makes sure we have all our favorite things in stock."

"But how did it know?"

"I dunno. She just knows. And it's _she_. The Doctor's insistent on that." Amy leaned forward and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, her brown eyes twinkling. "He talks to her. Calls her 'Sexy' when he thinks no one's around to hear him."

Sam laughed as he flipped the switch to 'brew'. "And I never thought I'd meet someone who beat Dean." He leaned against the counter beside Amy. "Our car? Dean calls it 'Baby'."

Amy pressed her hands to her mouth, but a snicker escaped anyway. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. He rebuilt the thing practically from the ground up earlier this year. He loves that stupid car, takes care of it like some rich dude with his expensive sports car." Even as he said it, though, Sam felt a pang of sadness shoot through his chest. He looked down at the ground.

"You okay?" Amy asked.

He nodded, not ready to talk about why Dean had rebuilt the car. _We can fix this_, he thought. _Once we're done figuring out this weird shadow-Cybermen thing. The Doc can take us back_.

The coffeemaker started to gurgle, and at the same time the tea kettle let out a high-pitched whistle. Shoving the feeling aside, he helped Amy fix the tea and coffee. They gathered the mugs and two boxes of cookies and headed for the console room.


End file.
